


Delaying the Invevitable

by mindlessharmony1017



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-08-31 11:45:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8577211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindlessharmony1017/pseuds/mindlessharmony1017
Summary: A Drarry fanfic.After the war, many of the students who were in year seven at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were made to return for another year to make up for any work they may have lost during the war. Draco is one of these unlucky few, and he is very annoyed with a certain "Harry Potter," even though he may turn out to be one of his best friends.





	1. Chapter 1

        Draco Malfoy was absolutely sick of hearing about Harry Potter. Heroic, amazing, _perfect_ Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. He was a stone's throw away from hexing the boy so he wouldn't have to hear any more about him. Ever since the war, he'd been regaled as a hero, someone to look up to. The Pureblood understood the reasoning behind the adoration, but that didn't make him any less irritated. He just wanted one day where he wasn't constantly bombarded with foul looks and the sound of people whispering as he walked down the corridors, but with the way this school year was going, he didn't think that was going to happen anytime soon.   
        He'd been forced to return to Hogwarts, much to his disdain, simply because Professor McGonagall - pardon, "Headmaster" McGonagall had deemed it wise. After the death of Albus Dumbledore, she had taken over the position, and seemed determined to make sure that all those who had missed large amounts of school during the war make up for lost time. Because of this, Malfoy, along with Granger, Weasley, Potter, and a conglomeration of other students had entered their eighth year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that September.   
        The displeasure he felt daily was only exacerbated by the fact that his father was now securely locked in Azkaban, and his mother was being held for questioning by the Ministry of Magic. It only served to irritate him further, knowing that his family was in the clutches of the most powerful wizarding government branch in Britain, if not the entire world. The only reason he himself had not been placed under control of the Ministry was simple: he had merely been acting under orders, and had not wished to comply with the Dark Lord. His claim was proven true after a brief questioning under the influence of Veritaserum, so he had been allowed to return to school, although he knew the government was keeping tabs on him.   
        It was now early December, and Draco found himself sitting in the Great Hall during supper, picking noncommittally at his toast. He wasn't honestly hungry, but he'd been informed by Madame Pomfrey earlier that week that if he didn't start eating soon, he'd have to start taking supplemental draughts, and he knew firsthand how nasty those potions were. He sighed heavily at his plate, then dropped the bread before picking up his bag and exiting the hall. He could feel the stares pointed at his back as he walked, but he tried to brush them off as best he could. He'd been forced to deal with them for the last few months, he should have been used to it already, but for some reason they still bothered him.   
        He swept into the corridor outside the hall, his robes swinging along behind him, then promptly ran into the ghost of the Fat Friar. Instantly it felt as though he'd been submerged in a bucket of ice, and he yelped, leaping away from the spirit as fast as he possibly could. "Watch where you're going, you bloody git," he snarled, and was given a reproachful look in return. He scowled once more and decided to go to the library, since he still had an hour before his next class, which was Potions. It was one of the few things he was even remotely decent at nowadays; he'd never been spectacular at Transfiguration or Defense Against the Dark Arts (largely in part to the fact that he'd spent the majority of his adolescence attempting to join the ranks of the Death Eaters), so Potions had always been his favorite subject. It only helped that Snape had been the Potions Master for the first several years of his education and had always been prone to giving him preferential treatment. Slughorn had taken over during his sixth year, and still resided over the post now that Snape was deceased.   
       Hogwart's library was enormous. It always had been, but what with the addition of new history books including the life of that blasted Harry Potter and his friends, an entire new section had been added over the summer to store them. He ignored the look shot at him by Madame Pince, the librarian, and made his way to the back, where he knew he wouldn't be disturbed. What he hadn't planned, however, was for someone to already be in his spot, chattering away cheerily.   
        "Then Hagrid decided it would be a grand old time if he allowed me to feed the Blast-Ended Skrewt, but he didn't tell me which end was the mouth, so I ended up in the hospital wing with burns all the way up to my shoulder! Madam Pomfrey was in a right state, I'll tell you that."   
        Draco sneered as he recognized the grating sound of Weasley's voice, and was about to turn and leave the general vicinity when he heard his name mentioned.  
        "Did you see Malfoy yesterday?" came the voice of a hesitant girl. He couldn't place it, though he was sure that he'd heard it before. If he was correct, it belonged to a short third year Hufflepuff who had an odd obsession with him. "He was walking around like he was really hurt or mad or something..." she sounded sorrowful, and Draco stopped himself from letting his feelings get the better of him. It was a good thing he didn't, as the next minute he heard loud shouts and guffaws.   
        "Rachel, nobody gives a flying fart about Malfoy," said Weasley rather rudely, and Draco snarled in the back of his throat as he hid behind the bookshelf.   
        "Malfoy isn't that bad actually," came Granger's soft voice from somewhere to the right of Weasley. She seemed rather scared to voice her opinion, but she cleared her throat and backed her claim with more information. "I-I mean, he did save me from Bellatrix when she was torturing me back at the Manor."   
        Ron made a noise that resembled a dying hippogriff in response, but shut up, knowing he couldn't possibly win against his genius witch of a girlfriend. Draco felt ready to cry. The war had changed all of them, but none so much as him, and he knew that Hermione Granger recognized it. He knew that she knew that he genuinely felt sorry about how he had treated them in the past, and probably would have done quite a bit to compensate for it if given the change. However, no matter how badly he felt, he was definitely, one hundred percent, sick of Harry Potter.    
        "Ron, lay off him. He might be a git, but Hermione's right, he's not that bad. I did save him from that fire that Crabbe set in the Room of Requirement, didn't I? He's an arse sometimes, but he's not a bad guy. Even the Ministry agreed to let him loose." Speak of the devil, now Potter was speaking. But something about what he was saying was odd... he was defending Draco? The Slytherin's throat constricted, and he suddenly felt very nauseous. He had to leave right away, lest he besmirch the shelves with vomit, and he had the feeling that the stringent librarian would not take very kindly to such a blatant disregard of her precious novels. In his hurry to exit the library, he managed to tangle himself in his robes and he fell flat on his face with a loud smack. He heard the conversation at the next table stop instantly.   
        "Malfoy?" Rachel said as she peeked out from behind the corner, and her face formed itself into a wide smile as she bounded forward to help him up. Her light brown hair bounced with her, and her skirt rode up her hips as she skipped. Draco found himself glaring menacingly at the third year, but she ignored his angry expression and instead offered a hand to him, which he refused. She shrugged and put her hands on her hips. "How long have you been here for?"   
        Draco lazily drew one shoulder halfway up to his ear in a shrug of his own, and he noticed that during their short talk, the other members of the table had made an appearance. He quickly scrambled up, not anxious to present himself as a fool in front of the three most famous wizards of the century, but judging by the look on Weasley's face, he'd already succeeded. "What are you looking at, Weasley," he snapped, and the redhead's snarky grin only grew.   
        "I'm watching you make an arse out of yourself," he said smugly, then hissed through his teeth in pain when Hermione jabbed him sharply in the ribs with her elbow.   
        "What did I just tell you?" she said with exasperation, and Ron rolled his eyes, nursing the sore spot where his girlfriend had hit him. "Hello, Draco," she said kindly, and he looked at her. He tried to keep his face set so no emotion could slip through the cracks, but his eyes betrayed him. She immediately understood, and turned to face Ron and Rachel. "You two should go get lunch, before all the good stuff is gone," she told them, and they shared a look. "I said go." She gave them both a glare, and they instantly nodded and ran off, terrified of the talented Gryffindor.   
        Draco flicked his eyes over to where Harry was standing, and he felt his palms go sweaty and his blood run cold. The Boy Who Lived was regarding him with a soft expression that for some reason looked wrong on the teen's face. His brows drew together in a wordless question, and Draco swallowed, setting his bag down on the floor awkwardly and drawing up a chair. "Where's the Weasley girl?" he drawled, leaning back against the back of his seat and crossing his arms. "Isn't she infatuated with you, Potter?" To his pleasure, Harry's face turned pink with embarrassment, but Hermione piped up right away.   
        "Ginny is spending time with her new boyfriend," she announced, and Draco was interested to know who the bloke she was dating was, but figured it wasn't his place to ask so he kept his mouth shut.   
        "How long were you listening in, Malfoy?" Harry suddenly asked rather sharply, and Draco turned his head to look at him.   
        "Wouldn't you like to know, Potter," he snapped in response, and Hermione shushed him.   
        "Surely we can talk about this like civilized adults," she said impatiently, and Draco sighed heavily again, sinking deeper against the back of his chair. He didn't know why he was still there, if he was being completely honest with himself. After all, he somewhat disliked Potter, and if his parents ever found out he were talking to Granger... he shuddered as he imagined the violent beating he would have gotten if either of his parents were free, and if they'd learned about the Mudblood. But the two of them were locked away, and it was unlikely that either would see daylight again.   
        "Why exactly were you listening?" Potter asked, a little more politely, and Draco glared for a moment before sighing.   
        "I didn't mean to, honestly. I just heard my name and was curious as to why The Boy Who Lived and his mates were talking about me. Nothing spectacular." He shrugged nonchalantly, hooking one arm over the back of the chair, then proceeded to ignore the disbelieving look he was being given by Potter. Hermione was also gazing at him, but her look dripped sympathy and pity, something Draco was not particularly fond of being on the receiving end of.   
        "Draco." Hermione's firm voice drew his eyes, and he raised an eyebrow. "You know you can always talk to us if you need anything, right?" she asked.  
        "Speak for yourself," Harry muttered under his breath, but he didn't look angry. In fact, Draco was astonished by how calm the Chosen One was being about his eavesdropping. Hermione in turn gave him a reproachful look, but let it slide, turning back to face the Slytherin.   
        "I mean it. Anything. I know you feel sorry about the whole deal with Voldemort-" She stopped short when Malfoy flinched at the name, then rolled her eyes and continued. "-And I'd like us all to turn a new leaf. What do you say, would you be alright with being friends?"   
        Malfoy couldn't help but stare at the girl, wondering if she had been hexed or was under the Imperius curse or something else equally as likely. He'd known the Mudblo-- sorry, Muggleborn, was magnanimous, extending the hand of friendship to many that were probably undeserving, but this was a new low. "Granger, you do realize who you're talking to...right?"   
        "Of course I do," she stated matter-of-factly, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Now will you grace me with a response, your Highness?" Her tone was teasing, and her eyes sparked with a glint of mischief. Draco shook his head in disbelief, wondering what in the world the girl was thinking, then snuck a sideways look at Potter, wondering what his take on the situation was. To his surprise, the Chosen One didn't look at all surprised by this sudden change. It was highly probable that the two had discussed this, and Draco's stomach turned.    
        "I...you're not pulling my leg or anything?" A head shake from Granger and a wry smile from Potter. "I-I...alright, I suppose that would be...acceptable," Draco finally consented. His heart was pounding behind his ribs, his head was spinning, and he was even shaking slightly. Friends with the Mudblood and the Boy Who Lived... If only his father could see him now.   
        Hermione's grin was breathtaking. She was genuinely excited about the whole ordeal, and it showed. "Wonderful! We should all attempt to spend some time together sometime soon... I'll send you an owl. In the meantime, I think I'll grab some supper, would either of you like to join me?" She stood rather abruptly, throwing Draco off guard. He shook his head, quietly saying he'd already eaten, although it wasn't the truth, and he heard Potter say that he had studying to do before their next class. Hermione gave them both a cheery wave, Harry a knowing look, and Draco a swift pat on the hand, then bounded away, her messy brown hair mimicking her footsteps.   
        The two boys sat at the table together, and while Harry appeared calm, Draco suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He had no idea how to deal with the whiplash. One moment he'd been cursing Potter and the ground he walked on, and suddenly they were sitting at a table together at the back of a library, and apparently they were friends. The whole situation made his head spin. Thankfully, it looked like the Gryffindor had been telling the truth when he'd mentioned homework to Granger, and he was hunched over a textbook. He had obviously neglected to do the Potion's homework assigned earlier that week, and Draco watched bemusedly as the teen scribbled various antidotes to poison on his parchment.   
        "Potter, it's not unicorn _hair_ that's used in antidotes, it's the horn," he drawled boredly, and Harry glanced up at him, then back down at his paper. Draco heard a soft swear slip from the Gryffindor's lips, followed by a hurried scratching as he crossed out the incorrect ingredient, and a soft smile found its way onto his lips. Potter was cute when he was embarrassed.   
        Wait. Cute? What the bloody hell was his mind saying? Draco froze, unsure what had just happened. He looked back at the Gryffindor working on his assignment, and relaxed when his mind didn't throw him another curveball. It had just been a one time thing. He was safe. He decided a nap was in order and rested his head on his arms, drifting off into dreamland while Potter scratched away at the parchment. All was calm and quiet, and he was content. All was well. 

(To anyone confused about why Hermione is suddenly keen on being friends, it will be explained in the next chapter)


	2. The Truth Foreshadowed

        The instant Hermione left the library, the smile slipped from her face. God, she hated Malfoy. She wished that Voldemort would have just done the job properly and killed him in the first place, but sadly that had not been the case. A scowl curled her lips downward as she recalled the week before, when McGonagall had asked her and Harry to stay after class, only to ask them to do something loathsome.   
        "Ms. Granger. Mr. Potter. I have a favor that I must ask of the two of you. I would not ask if it were not of great importance- you must understand this- but it is in fact important, so I must." She sat herself behind her desk, then set her arms upon the wood in front of her, staring intently at the two of them. "I have discussed this with Professor Slughorn, and he agreed that it would be a good idea, no matter how reluctantly he may have done so."  
        "What is it, Professor?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed. "Are there still Death Eaters at large? Is another person misusing Polyjuice Potion and hiding themselves in the school? Is the Ministr-"  
        "Ms. Granger! Control yourself, please. No, it is not one of those options, although it is related. The two of you must become friends with Mr. Draco Malfoy." She gave both of them a stern look over her glasses. Hermione was flabbergasted at first, but her shock soon changed to anger as she registered what exactly it was that she was being asked to do.   
        "You want _us_ ," she gestured to herself and Harry, "to become friends with that...that..." she was so furious that she couldn't even find the word she was looking for.   
        "Prat? Git? Bloody arsehole?" Harry suggested helpfully, and Hermione readily agreed.   
        "Precisely! I don't know if you're aware of the fact that he has repeatedly attempted to kill either myself, Ron or Harry, that he tried to kill Professor Dumbledore, and that he has the bloody _Dark Mark_ on his arm! He's a Death Eater, Professor! We can't possibly be expected to-"  
        "You are in fact expected to!" Professor McGonagall responded sharply, and Hermione shut her mouth, fuming. "We are doing this for a reason, it is not without just cause. You will keep tabs on him, monitor his behavior to make sure that he does not make any attempts to correspond with any other Death Eaters, break his parents out of Azkaban, and in general keep his moodiness to a relative low. We know he is not a pleasant person to be around, but we are hoping that having friends of sorts might improve that."   
        "Professor?" Harry interjected, and the witch nodded at him, granting him permission to speak. "How long will we have to go along with this?"   
        "Until the end of the school year. After that, you may do whatever you like, as the Ministry will completely overtake the monitoring of Mr. Malfoy. However, for now it is both more efficient and more beneficial to have wizards his own age overseeing his progress. I assure you that you shall not be placed in harm's way, but this is not a suggestion."   
        "I have one more question. What if he doesn't agree to being friends?" Harry asked.   
        "I suppose then you should simply pester him until he relents. However, with his behavior of late, I feel that he will not deny any advances of friendship. One last request: please keep Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley separated. I fear the two will attempt to rip each other's throats out if either one of them comes within a five foot radius of the other. I will keep you posted on any changes. You are dismissed."   
        Now, a week later, Hermione was plodding towards Professor McGonagall's office to let her know that the operation had been a success, yada yada yada. God she hated that pompous prick. Well, now he was their problem for the remainder of their eighth year. Great. Just marvelous. Lovely. 

~~oOo~~

        Back in the library, Draco was woken roughly by a sharp shake from Potter.   
        "Malfoy, c'mon. It's time to go to Potions. If you don't wake up I'm leaving without you."  
        "Ugh, alright alright, I'm up." Draco yawned widely and drew the back of his hand across his eyes. The nap had done little to ease his exhaustion, but at least his headache had diminished in severity. Potter was standing next to the table, his bag already slung across his shoulder, and the Slytherin grumbled a little as he grabbed his own bag from the floor. "Potter?"  
        "Yea?"  
        "Can I ask you a question?"   
        "Sure."  
        "Are we really friends or is this whole thing a joke?"   
        Harry's stoic demeanor slipped for a moment, very nearly revealing the horror he felt, but he tugged the mask of deception back into place before Draco could catch the sudden change in expression. "We're friends," he responded shortly, and offered no more explanation. "But we seriously have to go, Slughorn will throw a fit if we're late." Draco stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed as if he were trying to see through the teen's charade, but he could find nothing that suggested that Harry was lying.   
        "Alright, let's go."  
        "Great."  
        They didn't speak for the duration of the walk to the Potions dungeon, and once they passed through the doors, they muttered brief goodbyes and went to sit in their respective sections according to House. Draco slid into the seat next to Pansy Parkinson, a girl he'd just accepted he'd never get rid of. She had been of use to him in the past, what with her connection to the underground gossip mills that circulated the news all throughout the school, plus she was very close with many of the ghosts. Draco suspected that once dead, people were required to acquire more patience, since he was unsure how the spirits managed to put up with her constant pestering.  
        "Good afternoon everybody!" Slughorn announced his entrance with a jovial wave and a greeting that boomed and echoed in the dreary dungeon.   
        "Good afternoon, Professor," came a chorus of indifferent voices, and the corners of the Potions Master's mouth curves down in a small frown.   
        "We might need to ask Madame Pomfrey for a mass dose of Pepper-Up Potion! Come on now, look alive!" he beamed at the collection of eighth years, and some of them managed to give him half-hearted smiles in return, but for the most part, they were tired. Draco in particular could barely keep his eyes open. He supposed that nap hadn't been such a brilliant idea after all. Noted. No more naps before Potion's class.   
        "What are we making today, Professor?" Hermione's excited voice rang out, and Malfoy felt a twitch of annoyance before remembering that he and Granger were apparently friends now. This was going to take a lot of getting used to.   
        "Thank you for asking, Ms. Granger! I figured it was time for a little challenge, and what with the first years starting in their more dangerous transformations in Transfigurations, we are making Skele-Gro potions!" Draco smirked, glancing over to see a disgusted look on Harry's face. He'd have to ask about the look in a moment. "Alright, let's do groups of two! Go on!"  
        Hermione gave a meaningful look at Harry before moving closer to Weasley, and Harry grinned before waving Draco over. "C'mon, Malfoy. Let's get on with it." The Slytherin smiled softly as he slid into the recently vacated seat next to Potter, then inquired about the other teen's look of disgust that still lingered on the Chosen One's face. "Oh yea. Back in second year, when we had that bloody Lockhart man as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the git made my damn arm into jelly. He somehow managed to remove the fucking bones but nothing else. That Skele-Gro stuff is bloody awful, though. It tastes like rotten meat, fruit and sadness."  
        "How convenient, as two of those ingredients are actually on the list," Draco teased, pointing down at the page on which the instructions lay. Potter glared at him, then a smile stretched across his face and he leaned in so he could see as well. The next hour passed rather uneventfully, aside from a brief moment where Slughorn stopped by their table and asked whether or not hell had frozen over, as he believed that was a prerequisite for the two being friends. The two had laughed and admitted it was Hermione's idea, to which he beamed and told them just how clever the young witch was. By the end of class, Draco and Harry had created a concoction that was very similar to the description in the book, but not quite.   
        "It says that the potion should be green, not turquoise," Harry pouted, tapping his finger impatiently on the page. "I just don't understand what it is that we're doing wrong," he whined.   
        "What seems to be the matter, lads?" Slughorn had appeared so suddenly behind them that Malfoy suspected him of Apparition, before he remembered that such a feat was responsible within the school walls due to the wards on every inch of the walls. Needless to say, he jumped, nearly knocking over a flask holding some frog livers.   
        "Careful, Malfoy. Professor, I'm not sure what we're doing wrong, but the colour is completely wrong..." Harry whined. Slughorn bent over, gazing into the cauldron, and made a soft _hmm_ sound.   
        "Well, Mr. Potter, I think I've spotted the problem! You added a touch too much lavender! But, it's an easy enough problem to fix, just a spot of dragon scale and that will be fixed right up!" Slughorn said excitedly, and Harry was quick to lean across Malfoy to grab the vial containing the ingredient. His arm brushed against Draco's chest, and he leaned backward, nearly falling off his stool in the process. Harry gave him another strange look, but shook his head, brushing it off. A moment later, and the potion had darkened to just the right shade of blue. A smug look crossed Harry's face, and he set the cauldron aside so they could clean up.   
        "Thank you, by the way," Malfoy said under his breath. The dark-haired teen looked up at him questioningly. "For asking me to become your friend...it really means a lot." His cheeks were tinted with a little bit of pink, which was clear against his pale skin. Harry gave him a soft smile.   
        "No problem."   
        Maybe Malfoy wasn't as big of a git as he'd thought. He should tell Hermione to give him a chance. Hopefully she'd take it well.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry about the length between updates. I will not be updating as frequently as I hoped previously, but just because I haven't been active for a while doesn't mean that I won't post again!   
> Thanks for reading :) Kudos and Comments are appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments and bookmarks are absolutely adored! 
> 
> To anyone in the Ed Edd n Eddy fandom, I have two Kevedd works, and for any RWBY lovers out there, my friend has allowed me to post a Bumblebee work of his. Check them out if you're interested!


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